


The Snow Falls Softly

by pocketbookangel



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mind Control, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketbookangel/pseuds/pocketbookangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maverick and Barnaby spend Christmas together. Set about 10 years before the series, spoilers for episode 19. (Note: this is NOT Maverick/Barnaby)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snow Falls Softly

It didn't snow until Christmas Eve that year. Glittery, fairy tale powder transformed the city's upper levels into illustrations from a children's storybook, but on the lowest level, as it fell between the warehouses and auto body shops, the snow became a filthy, grey slush before melting as it hit the ground.

Maverick drove slowly down the street, trying to decide if the young men he could see lounging in doorways and in the alleys were likely to steal his car, or if they would be satisfied with lazy insults and resentment. It was unwise to come to this section of the city alone, and he tried to reassure himself: _I'm more dangerous than they could ever be._ It wasn't comforting. All they saw was an old man in an expensive car.

The detective who'd called Maverick had told him the unlicensed casino was under the backroom of a deli. _Fresh Sandwiches Daily_ , the sign in the window said, but there were no sandwiches and no people to buy them. There was a man behind the deli counter who seemed too absorbed in his copy of _Good Housekeeping_ to acknowledge Maverick's presence, but Maverick knew his face had been seen and would be remembered. He went through the backroom, past empty boxes stacked on decaying pallets, and down the stairs.

"Casino" was a fancy name for the dank basement he entered. A row of slot machines lined the wall. An elderly woman, with the cracked, red cheeks of an alcoholic, sat at the machine furthest from the door. It was a place for small people to lose small amounts of money. Maverick was disgusted. Places like this shouldn't exist. If it was up to him, he'd bring the cameras in, let the light of Hero TV shine and send the rats scurrying.

A roulette wheel quietly occupied one corner, but the rest of the room looked like a storm had passed through. The blackjack tables had been overturned and chairs smashed against them; poker chips were embedded in the concrete floor.

The woman at the slot machine pulled the lever and the reels turned: diamonds, diamonds, ouroboros. She pulled the lever again, and the snake biting its tail disappeared and reappeared on another reel.

Barnaby was sitting on a chair in the manager's office with his arms folded across his chest, angry and exhausted. He relaxed when he saw Maverick walk in the door.

"This your kid?" the manager said.

"Barnaby," Maverick shook his head slightly.

"He comes storming in here, breaking my furniture, scaring my customers, asking personal questions. If he'd asked nicely, I would've shown him my tattoos." The manager leered at Barnaby, who looked away.

"Go wait in the car, Barnaby. I'll take care of this."

"But-"

"Go," Maverick said.

The manager leaned back smugly as he watched Barnaby leave. He expected Maverick to smooth things over with an envelope of cash, but Maverick took off his glasses instead, leaving him with fuzzy memories of the day his casino was attacked, maybe it was attempted robbery, by the teenagers who hung around outside.

Barnaby was silent as they pulled away from the casino.

"Hero TV is working with the Justice department on a special investigation of these places. One of the detectives on the case called me when he saw you go inside."

"I saw this." Barnaby reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a flyer. BLACKJACK NO-LIMIT 7 CARD STUD SUNDAYS, it promised. A crudely drawn snake curled around the text.

"And if they were involved in what happened to your parents? Even with your powers, charging in like that could've gotten you killed."

"You don't understand."

"Barnaby, we've talked about this before. Once you become a hero, all of the government's resources will be available to you, all of my company's resources will be available to you. Learn how to control your power, and in a few years-"

"No. I don't want to wait a few years." Barnaby took off his glasses and covered his face with his hands. "You don't understand."

"We can talk about this when we get back to my place."

"Can I stay with you tonight? I don't feel like going back to the dorms."

"Of course."

"Thank you." Barnaby tried to discreetly wipe his eyes with his sleeve.

Sternbild City Opera's annual broadcast of _Hansel and Gretel_ filled the car for the rest of the ride back to Maverick's house. Navigating the system of lifts and access roads between the bronze and the gold levels was difficult on the best of days, but it was worse on a holiday. People who usually commuted by monorail were driving out of the city, and people who lived on the lower levels were taking advantage of the day to tour a world illuminated by natural sunlight and decorated with clean snow.

Barnaby sat down on the couch and waited for the inevitable lecture. Wait until you're older. Be patient, go to the Academy, be patient, wait. Didn't he understand that the trail grew colder with every day that passed? He looked up anxiously as Maverick set a cup of hot cocoa in front of him.

"Well, Barnaby."

"The other day, when I woke up in the morning, I couldn't remember..." Barnaby curled his fingers around the mug and let its warmth reassure him.

"What couldn't you remember?"

"I couldn't remember my mother's face. It was like I was seeing my parents through a dirty window. I had to get up and look for their picture. I already lost my parents, I can't lose my memories of them as well. I want justice." Barnaby mumbled as the drug started to work. "I don't ever want to forget."

"You look very much like your parents, Barnaby. I don't think I could ever forget them as long as I have you." Maverick took off his glasses and stared into Barnaby's clouded eyes. "I think if your mother was here, she'd say she was proud of you, proud to have you as a son."

When Barnaby woke up, it was already dark outside, but the curtains were open so he could see Sternbild's holiday lights twinkling below. Maverick was in the kitchen, cutting away the foil from a roast turkey that had just been delivered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't have time to cook this year." Maverick transferred the turkey to a red and green serving platter, and began arranging potatoes around it. "Maybe next year, you could come over earlier and we could cook together."

"I'd like that. Thank you for coming to get me earlier; I'm sorry to cause so much trouble."

"Don't worry about it." Maverick said. "I'm glad to see you looking better."

Barnaby did look better. While sleeping on the couch, he'd had the best dream: his parents, alive, happy, proud of their only son.


End file.
